


Moby Dick

by MissViolet



Series: On Tour [2]
Category: Led Zeppelin, Rock Music RPF
Genre: Backstage, Blow Jobs, Cigarettes, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27404059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissViolet/pseuds/MissViolet
Summary: Jimmy and Robert get naughty in the green room.
Relationships: Jimmy Page/Robert Plant
Series: On Tour [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833313
Kudos: 14





	Moby Dick

**Author's Note:**

> Filthy backstage porn, don’t say you weren’t warned.

The audience was so silent you could hear a pin drop as Jimmy soloed. He wore the same sneer when he was drilling Robert, and the way his lean rippled chest was slicked with sweat also reminded him of their passionate late-night sessions in the privacy of his hotel room. A drop of sweat trickled down his jaw as he ground out the hard, dirty riffs. Robert wanted to lick it off.

Jimmy met his eyes and his wicked pink tongue licked the corner of his pretty mouth. Then he winked at him. Robert thought he’d die right there. The hot little tease! He was turned on, distracted; about to his miss his cue.

He tore his gaze away from Jimmy and focused on his singing, but the dirty thoughts slipped in. “Give it to me! Give it!” he sang passionately. The song ended to thunderous applause. And finally he introduced Bonzo’s solo. Thank God, he was done for now. He could take a breather, cool down while they played “Moby Dick.” He and Jonesy retreated to the darkened wings as Jimmy and Bonzo began their solo.

They were on fire, perfectly in sync, Jimmy strutting across the stage, Bonzo nodding his head in time. Most drummers played rhythm but Bonzo played the lead aggressively, matching Jimmy note for note. He rarely got a chance to watch them and so he lingered, noting the way Jimmy wrenched out the sizzling notes in a way that was more than a little sexual, at least to his overheated imagination. Based on the girls screaming in the front row, the audience felt the same.

It didn’t cool him down at all; he was if possible even more fired up because he wasn’t thinking of his cues, just watching, watching, his heart pounding as Jimmy ground out the fierce, fiery notes. Two minutes in, and Jimmy handed his guitar to a roadie and skulked off stage, pausing to light a cigarette on his way out. He didn’t notice Robert lurking in the corner as made his way to the green room.

“Hey,” Robert said, reaching out and grabbing his arm. “You were on fire!”

“You think so?” Jimmy asked with a grin. He was always so pleased by the compliments, as if he didn’t realize how good he was. Or maybe it was just Robert’s compliments in particular that made his pale cheeks flush so prettily.

Bonzo’s drums were like a heartbeat, a bed thumping against a wall, bodies slapping together. His heart was pounding, with the music, Jimmy’s nearness, the adrenaline of performance, the anticipation…the fifth element that was Led Zeppelin was still cloaked around the two of them. He pulled him into the green room, pressed him against the wall and kissed those full, rosy lips, tasting the salt of his sweat.

“I don’t want to sap my mojo. I have to go back out there,” Jimmy murmured between kisses.

“Sap your mojo? That’s not real,” Robert said dismissively. “Besides, I told Bonzo to play for at least 20 minutes so you could get a blowie.”

Jimmy looked at him, aghast.

“I didn’t say who’d give it you!” Robert added indignantly, although he didn’t think Bonzo was entirely unaware of their dalliance, and even Jonesy couldn’t have missed the hot looks they exchanged, on stage and off, the dynamic chemistry, the way the air practically crackled with electricity whenever they were together, but especially while performing, when invisible current between them was almost palpable.

“Are you volunteering?” Jimmy asked him playfully.

Robert didn’t answer, just pushed him against the door of the green room. It was a shabby room containing a few battered sofas and a long buffet table stacked with the remnants of their pre-show gathering. Empty paper cups, scattered bowls of nuts, overflowing ashtrays. The room was too large to be cozy. He wondered who first thought the bilious green color was soothing to performers with nerves.

The room was drab, but Jimmy was brightest thing in it, with his lustrous black suit embroidered in brilliant colors, his flashing silver necklace, even his black curly hair seemed glossy and bright. Or perhaps it was Robert thought of as his ‘performance glow.’ Off stage he was reserved, though anyone could see that those still waters ran deep. On stage he was fierce and flamboyant, grinding out the hard notes, sneering, scowling, duck-walking, leaping into the air, completely the opposite of his usual soft-spoken self. The guitar spoke for him, and he was born to play it.

Not for the first time Robert thought that there was something so total about his obsession with Jimmy Page: his scent, the softness of his pouty lips, his ivory skin, the way he looked, the way he sounded. His soft, shy, upper-crust speaking voice, the way he giggled nervously around people he didn’t know, as compared to the way he was on stage: fierce, rapacious, passionate in a way that was blatantly erotic.

He sank his head into the embroidered satin jacket. It smelled like wet silk, cigarettes, and sweat: Jimmy’s hot, masculine scent that thrilled his heart.

“We don’t have time,” said Jimmy, but without much resolve. He kissed Robert again.

“We have plenty.”

“Think you can get me off in 15 minutes?”

“I only need five.”

Jimmy locked the door of the green room. Robert took him by the lapels of his outrageously embroidered coat. He loved him in these tight-fitting clothes, the snug jacket that he wore open, bare chest underneath, the tight pants that clung to his pert arse and made his long legs look even longer. He wasn’t going to rush it. Giving head to Jimmy Page was too delightful to be rushed and anyway, he wanted to tease him a little, the way he had been teased by him, on stage, in front of thousands, winking, licking his lips like that, knowing how maddening it was to Robert.

If only there were a little more time, he would tease him slowly, make him beg for it, but he didn’t want to cut it too close. He kissed Jimmy deeply, tonguing his sweet lips until he opened his mouth and his hot little tongue met Robert’s. Breathless, open-mouthed kisses, and Jimmy’s hands snaked behind him and grabbed his arse and pulled him close so he could grind his hot bulge against Robert’s. His lips tasted of salt and the smoke of his endless Marlboros. His body was slick and glistening with sweat, which was especially maddening to Robert. They kissed and kissed, hips rocking together, Robert’s hands caressing the lean planes of Jimmy’s chest, stroking down to his rippled abdomen, the tight waistband of his trousers. He kissed his collarbone, his neck, his sweet rosy lips, again and again, intoxicated with him, the way he blazed on stage, and even now his body still tightly wound, the adrenaline of his performance coiled inside him like a wildcat about to pounce.

“Best get on with it,” Jimmy murmured, after long exhilarating minutes of increasingly hard, dirty, gaping kisses. His hands gripped Robert’s arse, pulling him closer, grinding their erections together. In response, Robert slid his hand inside his jacket, gripped his bare waist, slid upwards, feeling with pleasure the ridges of his lean muscled torso, until his fingertips rested on Jimmy’s right nipple, which his circled, stroked, lightly pinched, until Jimmy beautiful lips parted as he panted and sighed and whispered _go on, love_ and _suck me now_ and _do it_ and other loving and filthy entreaties.

Robert did not hurry, would not hurry, audience be damned. He intended to take his time pleasuring his dark-haired prince, to savor every hot minute. He bent his head to tongue and suck the nipple he had been teasing while his fingers tweaked the other one, relishing Jimmy’s soft moans. Ever-so-gently, he took the taut nipple in his teeth, nibbled lightly, until Jimmy cried out. He was so sensitive that Robert was sure he could come from this alone, and as much as he relished the idea of him making him cream in his trousers, ruin his fancy dragon suit, he had promised to suck him off, he being nothing loath, his mouth watering at the thought of what he was about to do.

He sank to his knees. The green room carpet was shabby with cigarette burns, the buffet table littered with empty cups and crumpled booze-soaked napkins, but the squalor of the situation fired his blood. He pressed his head to Jimmy’s bare body, tasting his rippled abdomen, dipping a tongue into his navel, darting his tongue beneath the tight satin waistband, while Jimmy shifted impatiently and tried to steer his erection in the direction of Robert’s hot mouth. He kissed his bare torso worshipfully, and that seemed right and proper to him, after the way Jimmy had torn those hot noises from his throat on stage, the bow and the Theremin coursing through his body like an electric current, making him moan, and toss his hair, and sometimes even tremble with the intensity of it. It was close to religious ecstasy, though he felt it not merely in his heart and soul but also in his cock and balls.

He kissed Jimmy’s bare belly and hips reverently, until at last his sweetly teasing lips covered the hot bulge between his legs. He blew warm breath into the fabric, already damp with the sweat of his intense performance. He tongued and lightly nibbled the long hard column straining his trousers, feeling it stiffen under his loving ministrations. Jimmy squirmed and sighed and took a great handful of his hair and tugged it gently, urging him along. But Robert was leisurely; he would not be hurried. He tongued and nibbled and blew him through his trousers until his cock throbbed through the tight fabric, until Jimmy bucked his hips and pulled his hair and growled _get on with it, you little tart_.

He knew he had teased him to his limit when his strong hands gripped the back of his head and the filthy, loving names broke from his sweet rosy lips. He unbuttoned the satin trousers, lowered the zip, and underneath Jimmy wore nothing; the pants were too tight and sleek. His jewel of a cock sprang out, long, smooth, and white, rising proudly from the crisp black hair that covered his tight bollocks. Robert paused to admire it before applying his lips to Jimmy’s belly, the sharp hipbones. His hot musky scent exhilarated him. He kissed and licked his bollocks, and playfully bit his thighs through the fabric that encased them.

Jimmy’s strong fingers urgently gripped the back of his neck, lifted his mouth to his straining cock, and at last Robert lightly tongued the swollen head. Jimmy’s rough moan was delicious. He tried to force his cock deeper down Robert’s throat but Robert forestalled him by wrapping his hand around the base. Then he continued his sweet and loving ministrations to the sensitive head, delicately tonguing the slit, lashing the underside, kissing and licking, until Jimmy’s thighs trembled and he panted with delight. Finally he took his whole length in his hot wet mouth, sucking him deep.

“Ohh, ohh!” Jimmy moaned wantonly as Robert’s lips glided up and down his aching shaft. He couldn’t stop his hips from pumping into Robert’s willing lips, nor his hands from raking and tugging the thick golden curls, all of which excited Robert tremendously, until his own cock swelled in sympathy, constricted by his tight stovepipe jeans. He glanced up at Jimmy, eyes softened with lust and love, mouth full of cock, and Jimmy met his glance, his mouth open, tawny green eyes half-closed with pleasure.

“That’s it, darling,” Jimmy sighed. His dick throbbed in Robert’s mouth, and his hips began to piston. “Suck my cock, you little minx.” This was the best part, making Jimmy utter such filthy things in his soft and proper Surrey accent. Robert worked him over with velvet mouth and lashing tongue, until his legs trembled and he tossed his beautiful dark head tossed from side to side, panting and moaning as the delicious crisis approached.

Robert gripped his rock-hard prick, squeezed it but not too gently, making Jimmy cry out, then he gently encircled the head with his soft, wet lips, sucking and tonguing it as he simultaneously jerked the base. Jimmy went wild, thrusting his hips furiously, pulling at Robert’s hair, sighing with bliss as he forced his throbbing, aching prick deep into Robert’s mouth.

Such ecstasy is not long for this world. Jimmy’s heartbeat skyrocketed, his breath came in rasps, and his cock throbbed hotly in Robert’s mouth. “Oh, honey, here it comes!” he gasped out, and Robert jerked him harder, lashed his swollen cockhead with his teasing tongue, until with a moan of pure wantonness he spilled a huge creamy load into Robert’s pink lips.

Jimmy looked down, he could never resist seeing Robert’s pretty lips covered with his spunk, and Robert, who knew him well, looked up, met his eyes as his warm hand continued to stroke and squeeze him and his clever little tongue lashed the underside of his cockhead, coaxing out the last drops of his spend, which dripped down his lips and onto his own belly.

Jimmy sighed with bliss, as his softening cock began to slip from Robert’s mouth. He pulled Robert to his feet, kissed him deeply, tasting himself. “You made my legs go weak," he said, sagging against the wall.

Robert took him by the hand and led him over to the shabby sofa near the buffet table. He sat him down, found an unopened can of fizzy water that wasn’t too warm, and poured some in a paper cup and handed it to him. He took some cocktail napkins and bent down to mop up his come-splattered belly. And he shook one of his Marlboros out of the pack, lit it for him, stuck it between his sweet, spent lips.

“Sweetheart,” Jimmy said softly, wordless with the delicious feeling of satisfaction that spread throughout his limbs, with the tenderness that Rob showed him. He patted the couch next to him, and Robert came and sat down, and Jimmy wrapped his arm around his shoulder and pulled his head close, leaning down to kiss his hair.

“Your turn, babe,” he said softly.

“Is there time?” Robert asked doubtfully.

“Oh, you can’t go out there with that rocket in your pocket.” Jimmy reached over and patted the hot bulge in Robert’s tight jeans. His fingers found his fly, unbuttoned and unzipped him, fished out his impressive cockstand. His long and elegant fingers traced his length lightly. Robert shifted himself, shivering with the delicacy of Jimmy’s fingers. He was too hot and bothered by Jimmy’s delicious climax to stand for any kind of teasing. He was on the verge of asking him to get on with it when he clasped his cock in his firm hand, stroked it slowly, then a little faster. He leaned over to kiss him with spent, smoky lips, in between puffs on his fag.

That he was simultaneously smoking and frigging him was unbearably sexy. Robert pumped his hips eagerly, and Jimmy obligingly stroked him faster, pausing only to palm the head of his cock, to tickle the slit and the underside with his delicate fingers. He was stroking him off with his fret hand, and feel of the callouses on the tips of his fingers against his sensitive dick sent Robert’s pulse skittering into overdrive. Jimmy’s lips ghosted over his neck, his collarbone, breathed warm breath against his ear. Robert squirmed as the hot blood pulsed through him, as his cock grew even more deliciously stiff and throbbing. He had the fanciful notion that Jimmy was playing him like one of his Gibsons, wringing the soft, helpless noises from his mouth.

“I’d better make you cream quick, I’ve got to get back out there,” said Jimmy musingly. Then he stuck the cigarette in his mouth so that he could use both hands to jerk him, one hand cupping his heavy bollocks, the other squeezing his aching, dripping prick. Robert gasped and shuddered as the pleasure washed over his trembling limbs. He played Robert’s body just the way he played his guitar at times, the burning fag between his lips, the guitar strapped low, between his hips, tearing out the wild notes, smoke pouring from his mouth.

Robert was melting into a pool of sweetness and light and exquisite agony throbbing between his legs. He was going to beg, he could not stand it another second. “Oh, faster, please,” he whispered.

“Come for me, darling,” Jimmy murmured in his ear. “Quick as a bunny, now.” His hand flew fast, and Robert’s cries grew louder, and with a sweetly coaxing motion, Jimmy palmed his sensitive cockhead, and rubbed the very spot that made him gasp out _oh, fuck_ , made his legs tense and tremble, his feet scrabble against the worn carpet. With a hard sob his big cock throbbed and spurted out the long creamy jets. He moaned with bliss as Jimmy, with a small noise of satisfaction, squeezed and rubbed out every drop of spend, milking Robert’s cock until his bollocks were drained and he finally pushed his hand away.

Jimmy rubbed the come into the short hairs of his belly with obvious pleasure. He was still smoking the cigarette. The sexy devil had tossed him off in three minutes flat. He mopped Robert up tenderly, took another sip of the fizzy water, a last drag of the cigarette, and then he kissed him and disappeared back to the stage for his and Bonzo’s solo.

Robert listened carefully. Jimmy was right – it did sap his mojo a bit. He was still an outrageously brilliant guitar player, but his playing lacked the fire and energy he had before their tryst. But it was worth it, oh, it was definitely worth it. Bonzo would know the reason why, but he wouldn’t guess it was Robert’s sweet lips that had been milking the guitarist’s cock just minutes before. He smirked to himself, pleased and satisfied at how completely he’d sapped Jimmy Page. But the thought of going out there and strutting around himself, after his leg-shaking orgasm, was daunting. He didn’t have the energy either. He would see if the others would bump up the acoustic set so they could at least sit down. The pastoral ballads might be right for this sweet languor in his limbs, the dreamy lethargy from his explosive climax in Jimmy’s capable hands. Jimmy was right about the mojo, though he would not admit it to him. They would build the energy up again; they always did. Rise and fall, light and shade, like Jimmy always said.


End file.
